More Time Is Less

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***** More Time Is Less

On the diamond, I used to be
a flexible arm and astutely able.
Not so now; I am half of me.

There were many days in the past
when I could play all the day.
Now, sadly, I’m caught at half mast.

Just a little of me is ready now
for competitive foray and tell.
I wonder all the while, “How?”

Golf balls I used to send nicely low.
These days, they miss the whole green.
They disappear, flying anywhere as they go.

A basketball was cause to spend
a moonlit night shooting long.
How is it now I can barely bend?

Lend me legs, a brand new fancy pair,
I say, and watch me happily go.
Timeouts will be forgotten; I have no wear.

Tennis anyone? But can I still show?
Can I play one set and last?
Old Father Time will ruin my flow.

Nature is a demanding master
as she bedevils our norm.
She reverses us to a slow disaster.

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Credit:
Poem and Photos from the personal and copyrighted collection of Barbara Anne Helberg

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